Even with a boxwood comb. Then, lightly dressed, She sank upon the turf, or sometimes wandered To pick a garland of sweet-smelling flowers Which grew nearby—and that day saw the boy; O how she yearned to take him in her arms! “Yet she held off a while in coming near him; Stood still a moment till her blood ran cool, Plucked at her dress and calmly fixed her eyes; When she was certain that she looked her best, She chose her words and spoke: ‘O lovely boy, If you are not a god, then you should be one, Cupid himself—and if your birth was human How proud, how pleased your parents should have
...more
Some of the best erotic prose ever written
